


Heartland Hotel

by EldritchSandwich



Category: Original Work
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Casual Sex, Chunky Sandwich, Coming of Age, Dirty Talk, F/F, F/M, Fisting, Gen, Older Woman/Younger Woman, Oral Sex, Police Brutality, Prostitution, Slice of Life, Small Towns, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-07
Updated: 2016-03-07
Packaged: 2018-05-25 06:18:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,802
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6183973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EldritchSandwich/pseuds/EldritchSandwich
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A few hours north of Las Vegas, there's a little place called the Heartland Hotel where people go when there's nowhere else left. One of those people is Morgan, lesbian runaway and temporary night clerk. Her new life might not be much, but it's better than nothing. And who knows, it might just have a happy ending after all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Heartland Hotel

My name's Morgan Wigg. I'm nineteen, and I'm the night clerk at the Heartland Hotel on Highway 318 a couple hours north of Vegas. Actually, since Marisol and her grandmother left after she got married, I guess I'm the maid now too. It doesn't pay much, but I don't need much and the owner Charlie's got this thing about taxes so he pays me in cash under the table. Between that and a room on the house, I'm saving up little by little until I have enough to...well, I haven't quite figured that part out yet.

I left home when I was seventeen, never even got to go to my high school graduation. It turns out small-town Kansas isn't a great place to get caught eating your best friend's pussy on prom night. It might not have been so bad if that stupid fucking cunt Lianne hadn't panicked, said that I got her drunk and forced myself on her. Convenient for her; that way she didn't have to explain the two times she made me come in her mouth before her brother walked in on me returning the favor.

I guess I'm a lesbian. I mean, I don't hate having sex with guys, and I don't have any problem doing it if I can get something out of it, but if I have a choice I'll go for a pussy instead of a dick every time. I don't exactly get that choice very often out here in the middle of nowhere, though; of the five other people who live out here at our little makeshift rest stop, the only woman is Mai at the diner, and she's sixty-something, married, and treats me like a beloved niece who's setting a bad example for her non-existent kids. Marisol and I kissed a few times, but she was too timid for anything else, and then she married some white guy who promised to take her away from all this.

Whatever, the point is I'm here, horny teenage dyke in the middle of the desert. My life sucks a little, but a lot less than it would if I'd stayed at home. I make a little money, I occasionally have a little fun, and I manage to stumble from one day to the next.

This is my life. Fucking riveting, huh?

* * *

The Heartland Hotel is just about as much less impressive than its name sounds as is possible while still technically qualifying as a hotel. We're a row motel with eight rooms, four upstairs, four downstairs, and even with me getting one of them we've usually got vacancies. The closest thing we have to a continental breakfast is a coffee pot and a vending machine. We have a satellite dish, though less for the guests' sake than because Charlie wants to be popular by having the guys around here over to watch whatever the current Big Game is.

The only other buildings you can see from our little stretch of valley are the diner, practically across the street, and the gas station and body shop a little farther down the highway. Each one's got a decidedly immobile mobile home behind it where the proprietors live, and each one's lucky to see a handful of customers a day who aren't each other.

At the moment, the motel hasn't had a single guest in almost a week. That's a long dry spell even for us, and Charlie's starting to get antsy. So when a group of six walks in around midnight, I do my best to straighten up and smile. They're bikers, as if I couldn't tell from the roaring that preceded their arrival, all big and hairy and black leather and nothing I'd consider remotely attractive even if I was hetero. That is, until the one in front swings in my direction and I see HER.

I feel kind of compelled to stop at this point and say that I'm definitely not ugly. My ass is a little flat, but I've got nice tits, good skin, and a decent face that I like to cover with too much dark lipstick and eyeliner. I've got glossy black curls that I wear up out of my face, blue eyes behind admittedly kind of thick and dorky glasses, and pale skin with a few freckles. Nino at the garage does tattoos and piercings as a hobby, so in exchange for a few blowjobs I've got a stud in my nose, one in my tongue, and a little steel ring through my eyebrow. I also got a spider tattooed on my right forearm and angel and devil wings on my back; since Charlie's too cheap to buy a uniform, and since a little cleavage can solve a lot of problems with grumpy truckers, I'm wearing a black spaghetti-strap tank top that shows them all off.

If that all seems like a lot of detail at once, sorry, but if you think I sound decently hot, then mission accomplished. The point I'm trying to make is that the girl clutching that biker's arm makes me feel like the ugliest fucking thing that ever got snaked out a shower drain.

She's got silky brown hair that falls loose past her shoulders, and big green eyes that almost twinkle as she glances idly around the office. She's got the face of a Hollywood starlet, and the body of one who didn't make it and had to start stripping. She's wearing a denim jacket and skintight jeans with a halter top that barely qualifies as a bikini, showing off huge, perfectly-shaped breasts, smooth hips, and a tiny waist. The only jewelry she's wearing is a ruby heart piercing her deep, hypnotizing belly button.

I try not to stare at her as they walk over, focusing instead on the guy she's with. He's about seven feet tall and almost as wide, a big slab of muscle with a shaved head and lumpy face. He looks like he could snap me in half with one hand if he wanted to, which is a good fucking argument for not staring at his girlfriend. But my eyes slip back to her, and those plump, pink, heart-shaped lips smile tentatively.

I clear my throat. "Can I, um, can I help you?"

"Yeah, how many beds in your rooms?" The big guy has a deep voice, but isn't going out of his way to sound scary or solicitous or anything in particular, so I guess he doesn't know that I can't get the image of his girlfriend coming all over my fingers out of my head.

"Um, two."

"Okay, then we need three rooms for the night."

"Okay, that'll be a hundred and twenty."

He pulls out a money clip on a chain and actually hands me a hundred and a twenty. I hand him the keys to 1A, 1B, and 1C on the ground floor.

"You got food here? I'm fuckin' starving," the hairiest of the bikers mutters.

"Um, not really, but the diner across the street's still open."

The big one pulls the girl closer. "C'mon, baby, let's get something to eat."

They turn and file out back toward the parking lot and their bikes, and the whole way my eyes are glued to the girl's swaying ass, every curve revealed by jeans so tight they might as well be paint. When she gets to the door, she looks back, and before I can pretend I was looking at something else she winks at me. I'm so keyed up I practically come there behind the desk.

I am in so much fucking trouble.

* * *

They spend about half an hour at the diner before I hear their bikes come back and their leather boots stomp off to their rooms. Around one thirty, I decide to step out into the cool night air for a smoke break. I'm in the middle of the first drag when a soft, bare arm brushes against mine. I suck in a mouthful of smoke in surprise, then cough it out when I turn to find the biker's girl leaning against the railing. She's left her jacket in her room, and the position makes her breasts practically pop out of her top. She's smiling at me.

"Can I..." She gestures toward my cigarette, and I swallow.

"This is my last one," I mumble as I hand it off to her. Her fingers brush mine in the process of taking the cigarette, and then linger for just long enough that I can be sure it wasn't an accident. When I look up, she's smiling at me.

"Thanks."

"Yeah, no problem."

She turns back toward the view of the highway as she smokes, meaning I get a view of her slender throat moving as she inhales, then her shapely lips pouting as she exhales. I don't have time to look away when she turns to pass the cigarette back, and those big green eyes hold mine.

"I'm Laurie, by the way."

"Morgan. Nice to...hi." Oh, real smooth, Mo. Make sure to tell her how much you like her tits next, you fucking spaz. She just keeps smiling, though.

"I really like your piercings."

I blush. It's not much of a compliment, but it's not every day a girl this insanely hot gives me anything at all. "Thanks."

"You got any more?" I bite my lip in thought, then open my mouth and stick out my tongue. She giggles, and the sound makes me weak in the knees. "Cool."

"I really like yours too," I say, trying not to spend too much time looking at her smooth, bare stomach. When I look back up, she's still smiling.

"Thanks. I was wondering...could I ask you something?"

"Yeah, of course. I mean, why not? Anything." Oh God, shoot me now.

She just smiles awkwardly. "I don't want to offend you or anything, but...are you a...lesbian?"

Jesus fucking Christ, how does she always manage to do things that spaz me out while I'm inhaling. I'm coughing as I shake my head, trying to slide away from her without making it clear that that's what I'm doing.

"Aw, shit, look, I'm sorry, I wasn't staring, I swear to God..." I'm so busy babbling that it takes me a second to notice her hand at the small of my back, touching bare skin where my tank top rides up. I turn toward her a little, and she turns toward me, eyes angled down coquettishly and drawing mine to the swell of her breasts just inches from mine.

"Are you sure you weren't staring?" she murmurs, and I swallow hard. It gets cold out here at night and her nipples are like bullets under her thin halter top, and I know mine aren't much subtler.

"I...I..." I lick my lips.

Then she licks my lips.

And that's it. I'm gone. I wrap one hand around her waist and the other in her hair and just fucking surrender. I know I'm moaning too much just from kissing her, but since she's kissing me back I don't remotely fucking care. All I care about is her soft, plump lips and her smooth, wet tongue and the excruciating press of her big, incredible breasts against mine. Her hand goes under my top to slide gently over my stomach, and mine slips down to cup her ass. She pulls back from my mouth just far enough that when she speaks I can feel her hot breath on my lips.

"Do you want me?" she whispers, and I can't stop a snort of giddy laughter as her hand pushes at my top on her way to my breast.

"Are you fucking with me?"

She bites her lip and shrugs, the motion making her entire body rub against mine. "Not yet..."

I groan and lean in for another hot and heavy kiss as the leg that isn't sandwiched between mine guides us toward the door to her room. I'm too horny to think about anything but the fact that she's peeling my shirt off and her hands are just below my breasts and I'm about to fucking explode.

Then I hear the creaking of the shitty old armchair in the corner of the room, and I spin around to find the big biker sitting in it, smirking.

"Oh, shit! Fuck, I..." I'm scrambling to cover my breasts and get Laurie behind me and come up with some way to keep this guy from killing either one of us in a jealous rage, and it takes a while before I realize that he's not moving, that Laurie's cupping my breasts from behind like nothing's wrong, sucking gently on my neck and grinding against my back.

"It's okay! He's just gonna watch. He just likes to watch."

I turn, trembling, to examine the biker's inscrutable face, and he just raises an eyebrow. Laurie's got one hand reaching across my chest, the other sliding down into my cargo shorts, cupping me, and all I can think about is how much I want to fuck her. I take a deep breath, telling myself it's not a bad deal; after all, the only way I could get away with making out with girls at parties in high school was if we were doing it for the boys watching.

I turn around, still a little unsure, but then Laurie unties her top and lets it fall to the floor and I get a lot more fucking sure. Her breasts are even more amazing than I imagined, firm and natural and perfectly teardrop-shaped with generous pink nipples, and when they press against mine as we tumble to the bed I moan.

My shorts are the next things to come off, leaving me completely naked. Getting her out of those jeans is a much more involved project, but since I get to lick and suck and stroke every inch of exposed thigh on the way down I so don't mind. She's not wearing panties either, and the heady smell of her pussy tells me that she's definitely not just doing this for her boyfriend's benefit. I chance a look back at him, but he's still sitting there, hands folded over his chest, quietly watching.

The call of the quim draws me back in, and as my hands reach up to play with Laurie's nipples my face goes in for a closer look. Her twat's gorgeous; it's shaved bare, like mine, but where mine's just a white slit she has plump, swollen outer lips with her pretty little pink clit poking out at the top. I gently tug the outer lips apart, and the smell gets even stronger as I reveal the glistening pink inside. That's it. We can do more foreplay later, but I have to taste her right the fuck now.

She doesn't moan or scream, just breathe more and more heavily as my lips and tongue trace the outsides of her snatch, then lick and kiss and suck their way inside. Her pussy juice tastes fucking amazing, and I'm drawn in so deep that all I can taste and smell and see is her.

"Oh God that feels so fucking good," she breathes, and then she gasps. That's my only warning before I feel her twat clench around my tongue and a river of girl cum floods my throat. I moan as I greedily gulp it down; I must have an oral fixation or something, because even when I blow a guy I insist on swallowing, and a girl's cum is a thousand times better.

When I've cleaned her thoroughly, I kiss my way up her stomach, stopping to play with the little heart piercing with my tongue before kissing my way up to one of those incredible pink nipples. When I do, I feel her hand reaching down between my legs, fingers rubbing and tickling and exploring the shallows of my pussy. "You're so wet," she murmurs, and I groan.

Her fingers are slick and exquisite inside me, and it's obvious this isn't her first time with another girl because she's touching and twisting in exactly the right way to make my hips thrash down against her palm, my lips and hands still worshiping her breasts as she fingerfucks me. Her skillful fingers and the taste and heat of her skin and the fluttering of her breath as I move from one hard, thick nipple to the other conspire to push me over the edge, and I let out a squeal of pleasure as my thighs clench around Laurie's invading hand. The motion traps it inside me, and she immediately grinds her thumb down against my clit, sending me into a second orgasm before the first is even finished.

My hips are bucking and rolling and I can feel my cunt juice dripping down my thighs and Laurie's hand, and when I finally regain control of my muscles and release her she draws that hand up my body, leaving a trail of my own cum as she circles my navel, then my nipples, then my lips. When she slips her fingers into my mouth, the taste of my cream mingles with the aftertaste of hers, and I moan. Once I've licked her fingers clean, she replaces them with her lips, and our hands are everywhere, stomachs and breasts and thighs and asses scratched and massaged and tenderly teased as we roll across the bed. When my hand starts to move between her soaked, swollen pussy lips, she hums her approval.

"When you first walked in, I was fantasizing about having you come all over my fingers," I murmur, and Laurie smiles.

"I was fantasizing about you eating me out," she growls. "Guess we have one fantasy left to make happen..."

I giggle, and lean in for another kiss, one hand cupping and massaging one of those incredible breasts while the other rubs up against her twat. When my middle finger slips inside, I can feel the tight wet heat and I groan into her mouth. Soon, my ring finger joins it, curled up inside her while the rest of my fingers pull apart her outer lips with every stroke and my palm squeezes around her clit. As sexually frustrated as I am, I long ago perfected my technique for jilling off and from the way she's gasping into my mouth I don't think Laurie has any complaints. When my curled fingers start gently brushing her G-spot, I finally get to hear her scream.

I silence it with a kiss, sucking on her tongue just like her spasming cunt's sucking on my fingers. Her hips are bucking and her tits are mashed against mine, heart hammering behind them as I give her everything I've got. She's getting stiff, and just when I'm about to change tactics her head drops back and she squeals, the bucking of her hips practically throwing me off. That's a good thing, because it means I get a view of her heaving, magnificent body as she comes, and more importantly a view of the long, thin stream of clear liquid that jets from her pussy, soaking my arm up to the elbow. When her muscles unclench and I pull out my sweet, sticky fingers, I can only stare at them in wonder.

Laurie doesn't seem to have the strength to get up, but she draws her foot up and down against my sensitive pussy and grabs the hand covered in her cum, drawing me closer until she can kiss me more tenderly than she has all night.

"I've never squirted before," she whispers shyly. I gulp.

"I've never made a girl squirt before."

She purrs as she runs a hand through my curls, lips planting feathery kisses down my jawline. "Jesus, Morgan, you're so fucking sexy..."

Even with everything we've just done, I actually blush. "You're the sexiest girl I've ever seen," I admit, and she gives me a brilliant grin just before leaning in to kiss me.

We spend a few more minutes like that, languid kisses and bathing in the afterglow, until I hear the armchair squeak. I can't help but snap my gaze over and roll away as the biker approaches, but he keeps a respectful distance from me, instead reaching for the inside of Laurie's thigh. She smiles, her foot rubbing the crotch of his heavy jeans, and only then does he turn to me.

"You want to watch us next?"

My eyes cut away. "Oh. Um, thanks, but I really have to get back to...to work. But this was, you know...fun." I glance back toward Laurie. "I had fun."

She smiles tenderly. "Me too."

I hurry back into my clothes, occasionally casting a nervous glance back at the couple, half-expecting this whole thing to be some kind of fucking sting or something. Laurie's just slid the tip of her boyfriend's big, hard cock into her mouth when I close the door.

* * *

Nothing else really happens for the rest of the night, not that I think I would have noticed if it did; I just sit at the front desk, cum dried on my thighs, soaked in the smell of pussy and replaying the memories of the hottest night of my life. I'm so lost in thought that when the object of those memories walks into the office around five I practically fall out of my chair.

Laurie gives me a nervous giggle, then crosses to the vending machine. She's changed into a big t-shirt and panties, and I watch her ass sway as she contemplates what to buy, then watch it stretch the thin cotton almost to bursting as she bends over to retrieve her snack crackers. When she turns back, I risk breaking the spell.

"Can't sleep?"

She shrugs, playing with the plastic wrapper of the crackers. "I got a few hours. I don't like to sleep too much."

I just nod. Working nights in a place where everyone else works days has taught me to get by with about five hours at the most, but I certainly wouldn't say I prefer it that way. She glances hesitantly up at me, then crosses to the desk, handing me the first cracker sandwich out of the sleeve.

"Thanks." We each eat one, chewing quietly as the silence gets more and more awkward. When I swallow, I glance up. "I'm sorry, can I ask you something?"

She blinks. "Okay."

I wince. "I mean...I don't want to sound...I don't know, I don't want to sound anything, I guess, but...why're you with him?"

Laurie frowns, and with those lips even a frown's gorgeous. "He protects me."

Now it's my turn to blink in surprise. "And that's enough?"

"That's all I want," she answers quickly. Then she shrugs. "Besides, he treats me good, and he lets me fool around with girls when I want. It's better than..." Her eyes cut away. "...what I could have."

My heart hurts for this girl. She's got a past she can't bear to talk about, and I get that better than she knows. So I just reach across the desk and hold her hand as lightly as I can. And she smiles.

"I gotta get back."

"Okay. I, um...I get off at seven, so I probably won't be here when you check out. So...goodbye. Laurie."

She smiles. She doesn't lean in to kiss me one last time, because this isn't that kind of story. But she smiles, and that's more than enough.

"Goodbye, Morgan."

* * *

Charlie relieves me at seven, and I go straight to my room for the shower I should have taken five hours ago. My pussy's still tender, and as the residue of sweat and cum melts away it fills the air with Laurie's smell. I drop into bed, still naked, and make love to her again in my dreams.

When I wake up at one, I slip into a little denim shirt and a shorter, more fitted pair of shorts. The clothes I have here are mostly what I brought with me when I left home, plus a few pieces Nino brought back from his trips into the city to get me to fuck him more, and as such tend to lean casual-slutty. Still, half-dressed is a good way to beat the heat, and you certainly won't hear Charlie complaining.

The big, balding, middle-aged innkeeper in question looks up at me as I walk back into the office, beady little eyes going from my legs to my cleavage with a grin. I left the top two buttons on my top undone, and as usual I'm not wearing any kind of underwear. I can feel his stare change focus to my ass as I head to the coffee pot for a cup.

"Did the first floor check out all right?"

"Yeah, they left at nine," Charlie drawls. "You can clean those rooms anytime."

I nod around my coffee. "I'll do it right after I get something to eat."

Charlie nods. When I'm almost finished with my coffee, he smacks his lips. "You checked them in last night?"

"Yeah, around midnight."

"You see that chick they got with 'em?"

I try not to let the color of my face reveal just how much of her I saw. All I say is "Yeah."

Charlie smirks anyway. "She was a real hot little thing, wasn't she?"

I bite the inside of my cheek. "Yeah. Real hot."

"What'd you like best about her?"

I swallow a sigh; Charlie's an old pervert, and he knows I like girls, so in addition to the occasional blowjob he never passes up the opportunity to get me to talk dirty about a girl. And since I actually did have some of the best sex of my entire life with her last night, I'm inclined to be generous. I lean down against the desk with a smirk.

"Well, her breasts were pretty nice...big and firm and smooth..."

Charlie grins. "Yeah, I saw those titties..."

"But I think my favorite thing about her..." I lick my lips for effect, "was the way she squirted when I fingerfucked her."

Charlie's eyes bug out behind his smaller, wire-rim glasses. "You...aw, you did not."

"In front of her biker boyfriend," I murmur. "You would not believe how big, and hard, and sweet, and suckable the nipples under that skimpy little top were..."

Charlie groans, and I set my coffee cup back down on the counter with a smirk. "I'll clean the rooms when I get back from lunch."

Charlie's too dazed to even acknowledge me.

* * *

I step into the diner in the middle of the lunch rush, which means there are a grand total of seven customers, truckers who've parked their rigs on the big dirt lot and leer at me as I walk in. I ignore them, giving a wave to the cook and a hug to his waitress wife. "Hi Wallace, hi Mai."

"Hello, Morgan. What you like today?" Wallace met Mai in Vietnam, and despite having been in the country for forty years her English and her accent are still distinctive; I always figured she was doing it on purpose.

"Um, could I get a BLT and some iced tea?"

"Of course, child."

Wallace leans down across the counter before his wife can even call out the order. "Is that you Mo? Oh good, I got this nasty-ass bacon left over from breakfast didn't cook right, I can just give you that!"

The diner owner smiles, then laughs as I casually flip him off. I adore Wallace and Mai; he's over six feet tall and probably used to be a wall of solid muscle before he started letting himself go, while she's barely five feet and skinny as a twig. They also love each other more than any two people I've ever seen.

It's only a few minutes before Mai brings me my sandwich and I tuck in. Wallace isn't exactly a four-star chef, but it's diner food and there's not much you have to do to get a BLT right. I'm on my third bite when the stool next to mine creaks and suddenly the tallest, most fragrant of the truckers is leaning down over me, grinning.

"Hey, sweetie. How you doin'? You work around here?"

"Fuck off," I mumble around a mouthful of bacon. He throws his hands up.

"Whoa, okay, don't be like that. I'm just trying to be polite."

I swallow, angling my eyes up toward him. "Wow. I've always wished a guy would be polite to me. If only there were some way I could repay you...like, oh, I don't know, a handjob in the bathroom."

"Hey come on, don't be like that! Just wanted someone to talk to while I ate..."

His sincerity is somewhat belied by the rough hand rubbing my thigh, and I'm about to start grabbing body parts myself when Wallace leans over the counter. "Hey! Why don't you go finish your lunch, let my daughter eat in peace?"

I try to hide a smile as the trucker's eyes dart between us. I'm white, Wallace is black, and his wife's Vietnamese, but Wallace is also twice the trucker's size, so I guess he's willing to assume that I'm adopted. I can't help a little snort as he scurries back to his table.

"Thanks, 'Dad.'"

Wallace shakes his head. "Man, boys ain't got no fuckin' respect these days."

I take another bite of my sandwich with a smile.

* * *

When I get back, I haul out the cleaning cart and the laundry cart and fix up the rooms. The one on the far end's a fucking disgusting mess, but the other two are pretty good for bikers: just change the duvet, make the bed, vacuum, lather, rinse, repeat. I do 1A, the room Laurie and her boyfriend were sharing, last, and it still smells like sex. When I wipe down the end table, something winks in the light. I bend down and have to laugh; it's Laurie's heart-shaped belly button stud.

I tap it against my chin thoughtfully, glance down at my belly button, and smile.

* * *

In a weird kind of symmetry, the gas station/garage that makes up the last part of our community has two employees, just like the diner and the motel. When I walk in, one of them's sweeping the floor with one hand and drinking a beer with the other.

"Hey, Ozzy."

Ozzy looks a lot like Laurie's biker, except for a beer gut and a bushy blond beard with a heavy crucifix between them. He's probably the nicest guy I've ever met, and he's never so much as glanced down at my cleavage so he's either as religious as he looks or, as I suspect, even gayer than I am.

He looks down from his last pull on the can and grins. "Hey, Mo! What's up?"

"Nothing big. Is Nino around?"

"Yeah, he's in back."

"Thanks."

In contrast to Ozzy, Nino's average size, Hispanic, and utterly fucking shameless. He pervs on me even more than Charlie does, and since he's got something to offer me in return things come of it more often.

When I come around the corner to the little mechanical room at the back of the gas station the guys use as a closet, I hear soft grunting. When I crack open the door, sure enough, there's Nino with one hand holding open a porno magazine and the other jerking his cock.

"You better be reading one of the articles," I mutter, and he practically jumps a foot into the air.

"Jesus fucking..." When he realizes it's me, he laughs nervously and undoes his attempts to hide his dick. "Hope you're planning to get over here and apologize."

I shut the door behind me. "Actually, I'm planning to get over there and barter with you."

He raises a single eyebrow, a trick he stubbornly refuses to teach me. "Oh, yeah? What for?"

I slip the heart out of my pocket and press it against my belly button. "For putting this in."

He grins. "Hot. Where'd you get it?"

"Let's just say it was a going-away present."

He shrugs smugly. "Well, I guess I could do it as soon as I finish up here..."

I roll my eyes, but fondly. Sex is Nino's preferred currency when it comes to everything from piercings or tattoos to cigarettes from the gas station, and since he's not terrible I'm more than happy to oblige him if it means not having to dip into my little nest egg. I kneel down next to his folding chair, but he puts a hand on my shoulder.

"Nah, come on, say it."

I sigh, then glance up at him, through my fluttering eyelashes and over the rims of my glasses. "How may I serve you, master?"

He practically giggles. "Show me those titties, slave girl."

"Of course, master..."

I undo the buttons on my shirt and let the thin denim fall away, high, tight globes swinging free. Nino grins, then wider as I lean forward and press my nipples against his leg. "Do my titties please you, master?"

He laughs. "Aw, yeah..."

"Would you like them to please you more, master?"

As I place a hand on either breast and push them together around his cock, his head snaps back with a groan.

Unlike Charlie, who knows exactly what he wants from me (vicarious lesbianism and a blowjob on payday), Nino's like a kid in an amusement park, wanting to try everything and overexerting himself so much me doesn't end up doing anything. And since I don't have twelve hours to let him fuck me in every hole and act out every fantasy, I find it easier to just take charge myself.

I don't give a lot of titfucks; my boobs are big enough to pull it off, but not huge enough to make it convenient, and other than a handjob it's probably the least pleasurable place (for me) a guy might want to stick his dick. But Nino's momentarily focused on my tits and if nothing else it's a little variety in an endless sea of cocksucking.

He was close to coming when I interrupted him, but the shock of that made him shrivel a little. I press my breasts together on the way up on each stroke, coaxing him back to full hardness. Nino's longer and thinner than average, long enough for me to lick and suck at the head as he thrusts, which is what I do. I can feel his dick twitch against my sensitive skin, and I start to speed up. He grunts, and I slide back down just in time for his long, thin stream of cum to cover my chest.

As I pull back, he chuckles breathily. "Fuck, Mo, you gotta be the hottest piece of ass I ever seen."

I snort. "Gee, glad I rate higher than Mai and paper."

He laughs again and tosses the magazine aside. "Clean me up, then let's step into my office."

Nino has a little chair at the back of the garage set up for tattoos and piercings, and I don't bother fixing my shirt as we march out there. Because even though every piercing I have so far is on my face and the shirt I'm wearing shows off my belly just fine, every time we go through the same routine.

"Now," Nino says, rubbing his hands together, "let's get a good look at the site..."

Normally I'd exhibit feigned bashfulness or genuine frustration at his insistence that I strip naked every time he gives me something, but today I'm still riding too high on Laurie's visit to bother. I get naked without comment, then make for the chair, but Nino's hand on my ass stops me.

"Nah nah nah, you need to stand up. I can't work on your belly if you're sitting down."

I shrug, then focus my attention on studying the naked picture of a redhead with huge jugs but tiny areolas taped to the wall as Nino gets his needles out. I'm not afraid of needles, but I'd still rather not watch as someone shoves one through my skin.

"You got the piece?" he mutters, and I hand him the heart. "Okay, you ready?"

I feel the tip of the needle just below my belly button, take a deep breath, and nod.

It doesn't hurt all that much. I don't scream, or double over, don't do more than hiss for a few seconds. When my breathing evens out again, I look down to find the little red heart winking at me from my belly.

"That looks fuckin' hot," Nino growls. I just stand there as he cleans up because I know that as soon as he does...ah, there he goes. He's behind me now, one hand on my breast and the other playing with my pussy. He's not good at it, not really, but at least he's courteous enough to touch a woman with something other than his dick. Said dick grinding against my bare ass is still mostly soft, but the rough crotch of his jeans rubbing between my ass cheeks feels pretty good regardless. "Shit, girl, why you only come here when you want something? I had my way I'd fuck you every day..."

I snort. "If I had my way, you'd be able to make me come."

He laughs, squeezing my pussy harder before I disengage, quickly pulling my clothes back on. "You're a cold-ass fuckin' bitch, you know that?"

"Oh, please." I roll my eyes, giving him one last glance at my new piercing before I turn for the door. "Don't even pretend you'd want me any other way."

* * *

I don't want you to get the impression that my life's just constant sex. What it really is is weeks or months of sitting on my ass bored out of my skull punctuated by brief bursts of constant sex. And since weeks or months of sitting on my ass isn't interesting even to me, why don't we skip ahead a little?

Specifically, to payday.

I don't have a contract or a pay stub or really anything that would make this job legal, so basically the deal I have with Charlie is that every two weeks I get a percentage of his profit. Said percentage is usually in the neighborhood of a hundred bucks; that wouldn't be nearly enough if I had expenses, but Charlie throws in the room, Wallace and Mai let me eat practically for free, and anything I need to buy I can get by letting Nino fuck me, so I make do. I've been doing this for a little over a year, and all told I've got just over two thousand bucks under my bed. When I get to five, I promised myself I'll reevaluate my options.

Anyway, payday always goes the same way. As soon as I wake up and shower, I go down to Charlie's office and he counts out the dirty, folded bills. He puts them on the desk, then pulls his chair back and undoes his fly.

The first time he was nervous, making roundabout statements about my 'job performance,' beady little eyes shifting like he thought I was going to report him to human resources or something. Fortunately for him, I was grateful to have any job at all and desperate enough that I was willing to do anything. I'd also been living on the road for months, and for a girl of my age and looks that meant my ass was already my primary currency; I was actually pleasantly surprised that he only wanted me to suck him off.

After that, it just sort of became habit, part of my duties; he was blown away that he got sucked off by a hot teenage girl, and I was just grateful that he only wanted it twice a month.

Today, just like every other, I get down on my knees while he leans back on his chair, hairy belly peeking out from under his shirt and the dry, musty smell of his cock wafting up; I'll say this for Charlie, at least he doesn't sweat. His cock's as chubby as the rest of him; it's a pretty good size, but even when he's ready to come it never gets totally hard. When I lick his cockhead and follow up with my lips, he drops his head back with a groan and grabs the base of my ponytail with his short fingers.

I'm always genuinely amazed by how long he lasts. He seems old and sad and pathetic, and yet he lasts easily twice as long as Nino no matter how I lick or suck or gulp, playing with his balls to keep things interesting and occasionally letting him pull me down by my neck, pushing his semi-hard meat all the way to the back of my throat. I gag and gulp, squeezing the hot flesh with my lips and my cheeks and my throat, and he lets out a contented hum.

I can always tell when Charlie's about to come because he starts moving his hips, my signal to bob my head and suck in my cheeks in time with his strokes. When I feel him start to swell I pull back, sucking on his cockhead as his stream of warm, watery jizz spurts into my mouth. When I've sucked him dry, I pull back with a pop, holding my hand under my chin and opening my mouth, letting him see my mouthful of cum and letting some of it dribble down between my fingers before I swallow. I don't know why that sight turns him on so much, but whatever makes him happy.

Once his breathing's back to normal, he slips back into his pants and hands me a wad of tissues. When my hand's clean, he gives me the cash. I thank him, he smiles fondly, and I head across to the diner for something to get the taste of spunk out of my mouth.

* * *

It's not often we get a new face in what Wallace cheekily refers to as the Gateway to North Vegas. I was the last one, and you better believe everyone noticed.

And today, everyone's noticing Lizzie.

The name's appropriate, so appropriate that I can't believe it's her real one; she's a lot lizard, one of the hookers who populate truck stops and make their living in the few minutes truckers stop to eat or nap or refuel. Last night I checked her in with a tall, skinny trucker with bad teeth who, when told about our hourly rates, proudly insisted that he was going to need the whole night. I checked them out again at six, and assumed that was the end of it.

But then when I wake up at one, I walk out of my room to find her leaning against the wall, smoking.

She gives me an easy grin, one working woman to another. She's thirtyish and decent-looking, hair artificially blond and artificially curly, big tits pushed up by her bra but jiggling enough that I can't imagine they're very firm, but fucking amazing legs. She's wearing a denim skirt and a thin, sleeveless blouse covered in flowers and open to show off her cleavage.

"We didn't really meet last night, huh? Lizzie."

"Morgan." I lean back against the wall. She doesn't offer me a smoke, so I just fold my arms over my chest. "Didn't you check out?"

She shrugs. "Yeah, but he was headed south, and I need to get back up north. I'll just try to get a ride from here."

I just nod. "Okay. Cool."

She looks me up and down. I'm wearing shorts and a baby tee, tight enough to give her a good idea of what she's looking at. "Shit, you're fuckin' gorgeous. The fuck you doin' workin' in a motel? You should be down in the city shakin' your ass on a stripper pole, you could make like a grand a week."

That's actually one of the options I've considered, though she's not exactly making it sound like a good one now. "Yeah, well, I'm just trying to save up some money before I do anything else."

She nods. "Cool, I can respect that."

"What about you, why don't you move down to the city? Money's got to be better."

She shakes her head, bleached-blond ringlets whipping around her face. "I fuckin' hate cities, man. I need sky, I'd suffocate," she says before taking a hilariously ironic drag on her cigarette. She blows out the smoke, then gives me an easy smile. "I like you, kid. You're easy to talk to. Come on, I'm fuckin' starving, let's get a burger."

As she puts out the cigarette and struts off toward the diner, I can't help laughing and going along.

* * *

I introduce Lizzie to Wallace and Mai, and they're all polite, if not necessarily invested. She orders a cheeseburger, and I order a regular one.

"You don't like cheese?" she asks before taking a sip of Coke.

"I'm lactose intolerant."

She nods. "Huh, no shit."

We make small talk until the burgers come up, then take a seat at one of the booths. She leans back with one leg hiked up on the bench, and if there were anyone sitting against the far wall they'd probably be getting a detailed look at her panties.

"So you run that place?" she asks around a mouthful of beef.

I shake my head. "Charlie does. I just work nights and clean up and everything."

"Huh. So you guys do rooms by the week? Just in case, you know?"

"Yeah, two hundred."

She winces. "Shit, man. Anybody around here I could fuck to get a place to stay for a few days?"

I'd frown disapprovingly if I hadn't basically been looking for the same thing when I showed up. "Well, Charlie might. Or Nino, at the garage."

She smiles and raises her eyebrows. "Wow, you're not even gonna pretend to be offended, huh?"

I roll my eyes dramatically. "Oh my god, how could you suggest such a thing. It's almost as if you were a literal prostitute who I saw getting paid for sex just last night. Et cetera, et cetera."

She laughs. "Okay, fair enough. And I prefer the term 'cheap whore.' Or 'professional cum dumpster.'" Given our interaction so far, I honestly don't know whether she's kidding or not. She pushes aside her plate and leans forward, making one areola visible over the too-small cup of her push-up. "Could I stay with you if I stick my tongue up your cunt?"

I choke on a bite of hamburger, and that makes her laugh. "Finally, I fuckin' shock you!"

I scowl, taking a drink of iced tea and waving off Mai when she comes to make sure I'm not dying. When it's just me and Lizzie again, I smile sweetly. "Depends on whether you're any good."

Her eyebrows go up again, followed by another grin. "Oh, so you do like pussy? Shoulda guessed with the whole punk rocker chick look."

"Do you?"

She shrugs casually. "It's a nice change of pace every once in a while. Not havin' to make the whole fuckin' thing about one cock. Havin' it last more than two minutes without anyone fallin' asleep." She leans closer, practically spilling her tits out across the table. "So is that a yes?"

I roll my eyes. I like having my space, but I'd also like having access to a steady stream of pussy. "If you're decent at it, I'll see what I can work out with Charlie."

She licks her lips. "Well why don't I just go to him, then?"

I smirk. "If you think he'd be a better fuck than me, then be my guest."

* * *

When we finish eating, with Lizzie rubbing her foot against my crotch for the latter half of the meal, we head back and immediately make a beeline for my room. Her lips are on my neck and everywhere else as soon as the door's open, her fingers in my shorts and penetrating my cunt lips before I can even stumble back to the bed. Given what she does for a living, I guess she's not big into foreplay.

Not that I'm complaining, really.

She's a good kisser, forceful and filthy, using her tongue and her teeth and whispering all the hot, dirty things she's going to do to my tight little body: 'Oh yeah, fuck yeah, I'm gonna suck your wet little fucking cunt until you scream,' that kind of thing. Dirty talk doesn't usually turn me on, but Lizzie's whole deal's just so cheap and filthy that I'm gushing by the time she yanks my shorts down.

"Where are your panties, you fuckin' slut?" she growls as she twists her finger in me. She leans in to suck my clit hard without warning, making me buck before pulling back. "You're fuckin' dripping, you wet little fuckin' slut..."

She adds another finger and pushes down, spreading me open enough for her tongue to wriggle inside, fucking me with it while her top lip massages my clit. I have one hand on the headboard, and the other under my t-shirt, playing with a sensitive nipple. "Ah, shit..." I buck as she starts pumping her fingers in time with her sucking on my clit, and I can feel my joints start to shake.

When I come, it's hard and fast, a jilling-off-when-I'm-angry orgasm. It's nowhere near the tender, explosive climaxes I remember with Laurie, but then that was over a month ago and it's definitely the best orgasm I've had since.

"God, look at that hot wet little cunt. Look at all that fuckin' cum..."

In the afterglow, it hits me that Lizzie's done porn. That's the only explanation for the way she talks when she's fucking. She slides up, sitting between my legs, and puts her fingers in my mouth. As I lick them clean, her other hand teases her breast through her shirt.

"So what do you think, bitch? Can I make you fuckin' come, huh?"

I don't bother responding. God knows it's not perfect, but it'll do for now.

* * *

That evening, I introduce Lizzie to Charlie and casually tell him she's going to be sleeping in my room for a few days. Thanks to the emphasis I put on 'sleeping' he's too busy picturing us together to make a big deal out of it or try to charge her or whatever. I take over for Charlie at eight, which means I usually have dinner before then. That means Lizzie and I head back to the diner, share a big plate of pasta, and then I get behind the desk and Lizzie announces her intent to loiter outside and try to pick up some work of her own.

Unfortunately for her, our only guest for the night is an overworked middle-aged businesswoman who, unfortunately for me, manages to overcome her obvious exhaustion to come up to the front desk and complain six times. By the time of the morning complaints about how fiddly our showers are, I'm about ready to throttle her with her own pantsuit. So when she checks out at sunrise, Lizzie leaning against the desk having a cup of coffee, all I need is an excuse.

And then as she hands back the key, she says "You know, I'm the customer. If a location like this is going to get any business at all, it has to be based on customer service. Good customer service. Not sitting there sulking when someone comes to you with legitimate issues. I want you to think about that."

My jaw clenches as she hands me a business card that announces her to be some kind of consultant. I set it down on the desk without reading the details.

"Well I appreciate that ma'am, but I'm afraid I'm too busy thinking about how you're a stupid fucking cunt who wouldn't know good customer service if it fucked her up her fat ass, which is obviously what she so desperately needs."

Her mouth drops open and her eyes bug out. She stands there for a few seconds trying to come up with a rejoinder, then stamps angrily toward the door. As soon as she's outside, Lizzie explodes with laughter.

"Holy shit, I can't believe you said that! The look on her face, I thought she was gonna fuckin' slap you!"

"Yeah, I feel kind of bad about it now."

"Oh, please, she was being a piece of shit. Your boss isn't gonna get mad?"

"Long as he gets their money, he doesn't care. Not like we get a lot of regulars."

She rolls her eyes. "Well yeah, not when the night clerk calls the customers a cunt. Don't you know anything about business?"

"What, are you kidding? I used to be the CEO of a major corporation. I just work here for the atmosphere."

She laughs again.

We trade barbs and jokes and flirting until Charlie comes to relieve me. At the lecherous look in his eyes, I decide to tease him a little. Since Lizzie's a little shorter than I am, I wrap my arms around her neck, letting her do the same to my waist. "Come on, let's go to bed," I say just before kissing her. I know she gets the point because she moans extravagantly, pressing her body against mine and making wet sucking sounds with her mouth.

When we pull apart, Charlie's eyes are as wide as saucers and completely fogged over. Lizzie and I just share a grin as we head back to my room.

* * *

When I get off work in the morning, the first thing I do is take a shower. When I announce that, Lizzie says 'Sweet' and follows me into the bathroom, taking off her shirt.

It's the first time I've seen her naked, and it's...well, not bad. Her breasts are kind of saggy, like I thought, and her thighs are a little chunky, but she's hardly ugly. And she gets even prettier when she pushes me under the spray and proceeds to 'wash' my fucking brains out until I can barely stand up.

"Oh, fuck yeah, look at that tight little cunt, I'm gonna get my whole fuckin' fist in that tiny little pussy, is that what you want, slut?"

I've never been fisted before and I'm more than a little nervous about trying it for the first time with someone who's so obviously shitty at pacing herself, but Lizzie twists three fingers up into my twat and so my attempt to articulate that thought turns into a moan. I have one hand on my nipple and one on my clit, and her other one is pulling my thigh away so she can slam her fingers deeper and faster and I'll be damned if I'm not getting nice and wet. When a fourth finger uncurls and joins the bundle already fucking me, I almost think I might be able to take it.

"You ever had a fist up this slutty fuckin' pussy, huh bitch? You ever had a girl slam her fuckin' arm down your cunt?"

I groan and shake my head and Jesus, I fucking want it, I never thought I would but in the heat and filth of the moment I need her whole hand sinking into my cunt, and I communicate that by starting to grind and buck my hips until her thumb pops up to rub my clit.

"I'm gonna shove my whole fuckin' arm in this tight little pussy," she growls as she pulls her hand back and her thumb leaves my clit. "My whole...fucking...arm!"

I scream. Holy shit! Holy shit, I've never been spread this wide in my fucking life, it hurts so much and it feels so fucking good and I'm bucking my hips, the dual wet smacking sounds of my ass hitting the shower wall and her entire hand pumping into me past the wrist a counterpoint to my squeals of pleasure. She bites down on my nipple, hard, and before I know it I'm coming my fucking brains out. My cunt muscles clamp down and my throat seizes and white spots grow in my eyes and the fact that my whole body goes rigid is the only thing that keeps me from collapsing. Then it's over and I do, Lizzie's hand still firmly lodged in my pussy dragging her down with me, and when she twists it out I groan because I've never felt so empty.

"Jesus Christ," I mumble, "Jesus Christ, Lizzie..."

"You like that, slut?" she rumbles. "You like havin' my whole fuckin' fist in your pussy?"

She's standing, which means her pussy's level with my face, brown stubble and crinkly lips and all. And right now my head's too full of sex to do anything other than grab her hip and yank her forward until I can bury my tongue in it. I don't know whether it's gratitude for what she just did or pride at showing she's not the only one who can wreck someone like that, but I do know I need to make her come her fucking brains out, right now. She squeals with laughter as my mouth and nose are smothered by her sopping folds, grinding against my face and grabbing my hair with a hand that's still covered in my cum.

"Holy shit, you fucking dyke! You nasty little fucking dyke..."

You know, the dirty talk's starting to get on my nerves. I smirk against her cunt. Well, I know one way to fix that.

As my lips fasten around her clit and my thumb nudges her asshole, she lets out an "Oh fuck!" that tapers off in a scream. I'm pretty sure she's not going to be talking again any time soon.

* * *

Lizzie and I spend the better part of the next month fucking. The benefit to rooming with a cheap hooker is that she'll do absolutely everything; I've never had a girl lick my asshole before, and then suddenly just like that I have. I'm not going to lie and say she doesn't expand my horizons a shit-ton. But I'm also not going to lie and say that I'm not imagining her as Laurie most of the time.

I'm not the only one she fucks, of course. She manages to pick up a couple guys who check in for the night. Charlie doesn't know about it, I don't think, but I doubt he'd mind; having a hooker around isn't going to be bad for business, after all.

At least, that's what I assume until the night I hear Lizzie out front screaming "Get the fuck off me!"

I jump out from behind the desk before I can even think about what I'm doing and burst through the front doors to find a stubbly, husky, red-faced middle-aged white guy in a canvas jacket pinning her to the wall, scowling as she tries to thrash out of his grip. If I wasn't so fucking stupid I'd run and get Charlie or try to find a weapon or something, but I am so I scream too and run at him as hard as I can, which turns out to be hard enough to shove him off of her but not hard enough to knock him over.

"Get the fuck off her asshole, I'm gonna call the cops!"

The guy scowls and reaches into his jacket. The first thing I see is the gun, and I start to cry. Then I keep crying, because the second thing I see is the badge.

"Lincoln County Sheriff's Department, you ain't callin' shit! Get on your fuckin' knees!"

Fuck, I want to stop crying! I sink down to my knees on the asphalt. Lizzie's not crying, Jesus, why the fuck can't I stop crying?

"Guess what, I'm gonna run both you little sluts in for solicitation! And you're goin' down for resistin' arrest, and you're goin' down for assaultin' an officer!"

"Please! Please, you were hurting her, I just work here! I'm not a hooker, I'm the night clerk, I just work here, I thought you were hurting her!" Jesus fucking Christ, I'm babbling, why can't I shut up, if I don't shut up he's gonna shoot me!

"You wanna go to jail, bitch? Pretty girl like you's gonna be real popular in jail, bet the guards and the diesel dykes are gonna have to take turns on your pretty little ass!"

"No I don't want to go to jail," I sob, "I'm sorry I'll do anything, I don't want to go to jail."

The cop smirks. I guess my crying amuses him, because he turns his attention to Lizzie. She's just looking down at the pavement, mouth clenched. "What about you, whore, you wanna go to jail?"

"No, sir," she grinds out between her teeth. "I'll do whatever you want."

He snorts. "Yeah, I know what you'll do. Well I don't want whatever kinda herpes or AIDS or whatever kind of shit your nasty-ass used-up cooch's got, so you can forget about that shit. But it's your lucky night, cuz there's a new two hundred dollar fine for solicitation, so you can just pay that and I'll be on my way."

My eyes and Lizzie's both go wide. "Two hundred bucks?"

"Each."

Lizzie winces. "I...look, I don't have that kinda money..."

"Well, that ain't my problem. I can haul your fat ass in just the same."

I swallow hard. Four hundred dollars. That's everything I've added to my nest egg since Lizzie and I met, and more. But I mean...I don't really have a choice, do I? "I...I can pay."

Lizzie and the deputy both turn to me, and I swallow again.

"I can pay, I have the money."

The cop shrugs. "Well? Go get it then."

I'm on my feet, scurrying up to my room to pull out the duffel bag I keep under my bed. The money's all packed into one end, with a piece of paper on top keeping track of how much I've got. $2448. Almost halfway to my goal.

I cross it out.

The cop leafs through the stack of tens and twenties with his fat white fingers, a smiling growing as he does. "Yeah, that's all in order. I ever catch you ladies flashin' the goods 'round here again, I'm haulin' your asses in no matter what."

I just ignore him as he gets back in his car. I've never seen him before tonight, and I never will again. That's how it works out here.

When he's gone, Lizzie drops to her ass with a groan. "Jesus Christ, Morgan, Jesus fucking Christ!"

"Come on, let's just go inside and have some coffee."

I'm shaking harder than she is, but she doesn't resist as I pull her up and lead her back into the office.

* * *

About eight hours later Lizzie and I are lying together in bed, naked. She doesn't usually like cuddling or whatever, but who gives a shit, I really need to be held right now and she owes me. To the tune of four hundred bucks, but I don't bring it up.

She does, though. "Jesus, Morgan, I though that asshole was gonna blow our fuckin' brains out. Where'd you get that kinda money, did you pull it outta the till or something?"

"No. I've got this...nest egg. I'm trying to save up enough to get out of here." I look down at the duffel bag, still lying on the floor. I roll over and push it back under the bed. "You know sometimes I hate this fucking place so much."

Lizzie hums. "I don't know, it ain't all bad. Met you here."

I can't help but smile.

Her lips touch my neck, and her fingers start rubbing between my legs. I wouldn't exactly call it foreplay, but it's still a lot more tender than Lizzie's ever been. I guess she's in a grateful mood. Whatever the reason, it's working; I can feel all the tension that night caused melting down and flowing out through my pussy. "Just lean back and close your eyes, baby," she purrs, and I sigh. No one's called me baby since Lianne.

Her stroking's so much gentler than I'm used to from her, and my pussy responds to the change. When gentle fingers give way to gentle lips, I let out a soft, contented moan. There's no dirty talk, no fisting, no grunting, just the smacking of her lips as she licks and kisses deeper into me. I can feel myself getting wetter and hotter and tighter, and that talented mouth just keeps up its steady ministrations. I reach down to stroke her hair, and she takes that as her cue to lean in even more, sinking her tongue inside me until my hips buck.

"Oh God," I moan. That's when her licking and sucking start to intensify, and soon I can feel the orgasm I need so much building in my belly.

"Come in my mouth, baby," Laurie whispers into my pussy, and I can't not. I can feel it flowing free, feel her beautiful hair tickling my thighs as her plush lips eagerly accept my juices. God, I've wanted this for so long, and I can't stop myself from mashing my hips up against her mouth, but all that earns me is a playful laugh as I crescendo, then collapse.

When my eyes open, it's not Laurie looking up from between my legs. It's Lizzie, and I feel a pang of guilt. But as drained and relaxed as my body is, even that feeling doesn't last long.

"Thank you for saving me," she murmurs as my eyes slip shut again. "Now go to sleep, baby."

I can't not.

* * *

When I wake up, I roll over to look at the clock. It's a habit, given my odd hours; it's ten thirteen, only about an hour since I fell asleep. I don't know if something woke up me up, but it's certainly a strange time of the morning for me to be awake.

I roll back over, and find that Lizzie's not there. Maybe she went downstairs for coffee, or to get something to eat. She's definitely not in the bathroom. All that relaxation I felt is pretty much gone now—though fortunately it seems to have taken most of the shock from the thing with the cop with it—so I sigh and roll out of bed to get dressed. I reach for my glasses as I'm pulling my shirt on, and they tumble and land along the bottom of the bed.

If they didn't, I have no idea how long it would have been before I found out the duffel bag was missing.

Just like last night, I'm out the door and running outside faster than I can think. She's not there, not on the landing and not in the parking lot. I run down to the office and she's not there either, just Charlie staring at me like I'm crazy. "Charlie! Where's Lizzie, have you seen her?"

He blinks. "She left like an hour ago. Said she had to get goin'. Thought you two was, uh, you know..."

I'm out the door before he can even finish articulating his probably very accurate fantasy. I whip my head up and down the highway, looking for any sign of her. North. She said she was headed north, that was where she was based, away from the city. I turn the other way, south, toward the gas station.

"Nino! Nino, get your car!"

Nino's head pops out of the open garage door when he hears me screaming, followed closely by Ozzy's.

"Mo, what the fuck?"

"Get your car," I try to say while catching my breath. "I need you to drive me somewhere right now."

Nino might be a perv, but he doesn't hesitate. He just nods and grabs his keys.

* * *

She had an hour's headstart, but the whole time we're in the car there's no traffic going our way, so I still hold out hope. Well, maybe hope's the wrong word.

When we come over a little rise and I see a blonde in a flower-print top carrying a duffel bag down the side of the road with her thumb out, hope's definitely not what I feel.

"That's her, pull in front of her!"

Lizzie turns as Nino slows down, a grin splitting her face as she comes over to the window. "Hi, you think you could give a girl a—oh shit!"

She gets maybe four steps before I'm out the door and riding her back to the ground. She rolls over and tries to shield her face with the bag, so I just punch her in the stomach instead. Her grip loosens, and I rip my life savings out of her hands with one hand and slam my fist into her nose with the other.

"You fucking cunt I'm gonna kill you!"

She shrieks. "Get off me you fuckin' psycho!"

"I trusted you! You fucking piece of shit!"

"Get the fuck off me!" She hits me in the tit, hard, and I reel back enough for her to wriggle out from under me. Nino's out of the car, but he's just standing by the driver's side door, gaping. I scramble up, and Lizzie's on the ground sneering, blood dripping down the lower half of her face. "You woulda done the same thing! Least I'm not some stupid fuckin' dyke who thinks, what? Just cuz a girl's willing to fuck you, it means you're in love or some shit? You don't know a Goddamn thing about the way the world really works, you dumb fucking cunt!"

My jaw's clenching hard. I want to fucking kill her. I want to bash her fucking face in. But I don't, because this isn't that kind of story.

I shoulder the bag while trying not to cry. "I know you think money's more important than other people. And I know you don't have either anymore. I ever see you again I'm gonna fucking kill you."

Lizzie's at least smart enough not to say anything as I get back in the car. I open the bag to count it as Nino pulls back out onto the road; looks like it's all here. $2048. Could have been $2448 if I'd just let that piece of shit go to jail. Well, hindsight.

Nino looks over at me as he's pulling a U-turn. "Yo, fuck that bitch. Let's go get drunk."

I can't not laugh. "I love you, man."

* * *

Life gets quiet after that for a while. I make a little of the money back, but I'm still not back to the halfway mark. I mean, it's not like $5000 is any grand milestone. It's just the number I picked.

Really, I'm finding it harder and harder to figure out why I don't just pack up and leave.

The bell above the door tinkles. It's only about nine, so it's probably a more wholesome customer than the kind you get at two in the morning. Not that I really give a shit. It's been three weeks since Lizzie left, and about three months since I met Laurie, and I just don't really have any fucks left at this point.

"Welcome to the Heartland Hotel," I say without looking up. "How can I help you tonight?"

"Yeah, we were hoping to get a room for...wait. Holy shit." I look up to find one of the last people I expected to see out here staring back at me, eyes wide. "Morgan?"

"Benny?" Holy shit is right! Benny was my boyfriend in high school! Well my beard really, not that he knew that, of course...well, until after the prom, when instead of fucking him I fucked my best friend and ruined my entire life. I blink. "What...what are you doing out here?"

He blinks back. He looks pretty good; clean haircut, nice clothes, like a dad from the suburbs. But he's still staring at me like he just saw a ghost. "We...we were just, uh...you know what, actually, we should—"

Before he can keep freaking out or I can ask him why, the bell jingles again. "Honey, could you take Sean for a sec, I need to..." As the girl coming through the door trails off, everything goes silent. It's like the moment after a gunshot, which given the way my chest feels is a pretty fucking good comparison.

She's on the short side, with short, curly, dark red hair framing a round face with wide lips and deep-set brown eyes. She's skinnier than I remember, wearing a button-down shirt and a skirt and holding an infant in her arms, and just looking at her makes me feel like I'm going to die.

"L...Lianne?"

"Morgan?" Jesus, her voice sounds so small. Fuck, I have to say something. I clear my throat.

"Welcome to the Heartland Hotel. How...how can I help you tonight?"

I can see her swallow. "We, um...we need—"

Benny steps in front of her. "Honey, no. It's okay, we don't have to...we can go somewhere else." He gives me a cagey glance, and I flinch. Right. I forgot. He's afraid I'm going to _force myself on her_ again.

Lianne steps out from behind him, shaking him off. "I...I didn't know where you went."

I shrug. I don't know what she expects me to say, and I'm not sure I'd want to say it if I did. "I went here."

She licks her lips. "I...I was worried about you."

I frown. I just...I can't do this right now. "Are you going to be needing a room tonight?"

Lianne tries to get me to look at her, and when she can't she frowns. I can tell because I actually am looking at her, very intently, from under my eyelids. "Yes."

"It's forty dollars for the night. Checkout's at eleven. I don't know if you've eaten yet, but the diner across the street's open late."

Benny shoots Lianne a look, then sighs and steps forward to hand me the money. I hand him the key to 1D. It's the room farthest from mine.

"Thank you for staying at the Heartland Hotel. Enjoy your stay. If there's anything else we can do to help, please don't hesitate to ask."

Benny doesn't look at me as he turns around and walks out. Lianne gives me one last, longing look before she follows.

* * *

It's almost one when she comes to see me. Four hours of waiting and second-guessing and blaming myself, and then all of a sudden she's in the doorway, those big brown eyes staring at me. "Morgan?"

I straighten up. I'm wearing a tube top tonight; I wish I had something that didn't make me feel so exposed. "Can I help you?"

She swallows as she closes the door behind her. She's wearing a bathrobe, a big seafoam green one that dwarfs her little frame. "I...I was hoping we could talk."

I frown. "I'm working right now. Sorry."

Lianne winces. "Goddammit, Morgan, would you just talk to me?"

I can feel my hand clench into a fist under the counter. God fucking dammit, Lianne. "Okay, let's talk. What do you want to talk about? Hey, I know, why don't we talk about the time you threw yourself at me then told everyone we knew that I raped you!"

Lianne winces harder, like I just hit her. Good. "I...Morgan, that's not fair, I...I was scared!"

I snort. Jesus fucking Christ. "Scared? What a coincidence, when your dad and your brother beat the shit out of me, I was pretty scared too!"

"Morgan, stop, I..."

"Did they shove a gun in your mouth, too?"

"Morgan, stop!" She's crying now. Good. I'm shaking.

"What the fuck do you want from me, Lianne? You want me to forgive you? You ruined my fucking life just because, what? You didn't want people to think you were a dyke? That was worth almost getting me killed over?"

"I panicked! I was scared!"

"Then you shouldn't have fucking come on to me in the first place! You started it, and then when you couldn't handle the consequences you dumped everything on me and moved on to your cute little family. It's been like, what, a year and a half? How fast did you have to jump on Benny's dick to make that happen? Yeah, you must have been really torn up—"

"Shut up!" she snaps. It's loud enough that it actually makes me pause. She's glaring at me now. "Sean is nine months old. Do the math!"

She wraps her arms around her chest, all the anger draining from her face as I lean forward.

"On prom night...when Kyle ran out on me, it...it was because I told him I was pregnant. I...I ruined my life, and I was so scared, and you held me and told me everything was going to be okay. I cared about you so much, and I just...I needed to feel safe and beautiful and...and loved." Her eyes look up to mine, shining. "And you gave me that. And I never thanked you. And then when...when Lewis walked in and caught us, I just...all that fear came right back, and...Morgan, I'm so sorry..."

I stumble around the counter and wrap my arms around her, pulling her against my chest as she starts to cry. Jesus, I'm crying too. "I wanted to hate you," I murmur, eyes squeezed shut and arms tight. "I wanted to hate you so much."

"I...I wanted to love you," she sobs. "So much."

I don't tell her I love her. I do, or I did, or some combination of the two, but I don't tell her that because this isn't that kind of story. I just hold her until she stops crying. Just like I always have.

* * *

When I wake up, their car is gone. I cry in the shower, try to sleep a few more hours, cry in the shower again.

Then I start packing.

There's $2311 in the duffel bag, and all my clothes and personal effects soon join it. I'm not even halfway to my goal, but my goal was bullshit, just an excuse to stay here where I felt safe. But if Laurie and Lizzie and Lianne have taught me anything, it's that I'm not _safe_ here. I'm just _hiding_.

I don't tell Charlie any of that. I just tell him I'm leaving, and he nods like he's been expecting it for a long while, nods and gives me a hundred bucks and a hug. Wallace and Mai hug me too, give me some cash as well. Wallace says "You be careful, kid," and I promise I will. Ozzy and Nino do the same, although Nino gives me some snacks from the gas station too. "Don't want you suckin' dick just to get by," he quips, and I smile.

Ozzy and Nino are the last stop. When I step out of the gas station, I'm facing south, toward Vegas.

That's as good a direction as any.

* * *

The club's got a weird smell. A strong mix of fruit and sweat, and I haven't exactly been to a lot of strip clubs in my life, but it seems weird to me. Still, my savings got me a tiny apartment and a new life here on the outskirts of Vegas proper, and all I need now is a job. It's been a week since I got here, and not once have I missed my old life, either of my old lives. Well, not often, anyway.

I guess I can learn to live with the smell.

Bruce, the manager, looks me over carefully. We're in his office now, muted bass and cheers thumping up against the wall from the club on the other side. He doesn't look quite as sleazy as I expected, but he still looks pretty sleazy. "You ever danced before, honey?" I shake my head. "That's okay. Here's the application, can I see some ID?"

I slide it across the desk. Good thing I got my license senior year, or I'd be fucked. He glances at it, then nods. "Okay, cool. You're gonna have to do a live audition. We do fully nude here, is that a problem?"

I blush. "Um, no."

"Great. Okay, I'll take you to the dressing room, then one of the girls'll give you a tour, okay?"

This guy sure says 'okay' a hell of a lot. "Okay."

"Okay. Come on."

I follow him back out of the office, through a door on the back wall. The dressing room's brighter and cleaner than I thought it would be, and there are a couple girls inside in various states of undress. I'm not going to deny they're all pretty hot, especially the brunette currently peeling her shirt over her head to reveal big, teardrop-shaped breasts. I try not to stare; I don't know how these girls are with each other, and I sure as hell don't want to go doing something I'll regret. God knows I've done enough of that lately.

"Hey everybody, this is Morgan. No stage name yet, we're working on it. Morgan, this is Krystal, Kennedy, and—"

"Morgan?"

As the brunette turns to face us, my mouth goes dry. As her green eyes widen, the only thing I can think is that I think maybe I was wrong.

Maybe, just maybe, this is that kind of story.

"L...Laurie?"

Bruce looks back and forth between us in confusion, as do the other girls in the room, but I don't care. The exquisite woman standing six feet away, green eyes shining and curved pink mouth open and hands pressed against the rivers of silky brown hair cascading down her bare chest and the most heartbreakingly beautiful thing I've ever seen in my life, is the only thing I can deal with right now.

I swallow. "I...I didn't know where you went."

She shrugs gamely. "I went here."

I can feel tears in my eyes. I'm smiling, and I'm about to cry, and Laurie still has that look of shock on her beautiful, shining face. Her eyes flick down, and it's only now that I realize the tank top I'm wearing shows off my stomach, which means she can see my navel...and the little red heart piercing hanging from it.

She looks up. She bites her lip. She smiles.

And that's more than enough.


End file.
